


Heartburn

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Advice, Anxiety, Aphasia, Crush at First Sight, Expressive Aphasia, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Friendship, Insecurity, Introspection, Mischief, Muffby - Freeform, Nervousness, Rare Pairings, Relationship Advice, Sans is a good friend, Second Thoughts, Shyness, Teasing, Ulterior Motives, Wingman sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Sans helps a nervous Grillby get ready for a date with Muffet.
Relationships: Grillby & Sans (Undertale), Grillby/Muffet (Undertale)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Heartburn

**Author's Note:**

> Side headcanon that's vaguely implied here but not mentioned outright: Grillby has expressive aphasia, which means he has trouble finding the words to communicate his thoughts to others. He can understand what others say just fine, but he doesn't speak fluently himself. We all know he's a monster of few words.

“… …Unsure,” Grillby admitted, smoke bleeding from him in nervous tension. How could he be certain of anything right now? In the booth waiting for him, Muffet looked lovely. Her glossy hair had been curled, her lacy dress fluffed and already she was smiling, her fangs a pearly white.

That smile, sweet and sugary as sin, could melt any potential customer in its path—particularly Grillby, he’d discovered. The first time they had done business, he had been rather hard-pressed to avoid staring at her lips too long as she purred and preened, talking her establishment up like she had built the Underground. At least, that was what he supposed. He was too embarrassed to admit that he’d missed half of what she was saying.

Razor-sharp as her fangs were, her lips looked so soft and full around them. How exquisite would they be to kiss, stained gently with ash?

Grillby was a gentleman and he didn’t objectify anyone by nature. _Look a fellow monster in the eye when they speak!_ She had multiple gazes to choose from yet somehow that wasn’t any better. Her eyes were just as entrancing, keen and dark as coal; the reflections dancing in them made Grillby’s knees feel watery.

He expected her to be irritated or even angry when she realized that he hadn’t been following her business proposition but when he faltered, she giggled slyly, leaning her chin into one hand. “Something else hot on your mind to chat about, dearie? Ahuhu, your distraction’s no wonder to me!”

Of course she had noticed how spark-struck he was; if his loss for words hadn’t done it, the blue flaming in his face had betrayed all.

“Hey. Hey! Cool it, buddy, or you’ll smoke me out,” Sans coughed, waving a hand through the haze filling the backroom. Grillby startled, having almost forgotten he was there. The skeleton was perched precariously on a stool in front of him, tweaking the small details of his outfit. It wasn’t a skill Grillby could have ever imagined in him, but apparently Sans had spent years helping an eager Papyrus dress for dates who never showed.

Would that be foreshadowing for this date’s fateful end?

“… …Second thoughts,” Grillby muttered breathlessly, fingers slightly singeing the hem of his fine vest as he tugged on it.

“Well, you’re a little late to that. Making the trip from Hotland to Snowdin with no shortcuts? Killer. You can’t let her swim through all that snow and then give her the cold shoulder,” Sans pointed out, twisting Grillby’s bowtie to coax it straight. “Chances like these are few and _fire_ between.”

He should have taken Muffet up on her offer of tea at her parlor! How inconsiderate was it that he had expected her to make such a trip? Spiders were ill-suited for the cold.

 _Hardly any trouble, if you intend to keep her warm_ , a Muffet-like voice in the back of his mind singsonged mischievously.

If the travel was too much to bother with, she wouldn’t have come.

“What if… …?”

Sans paused on the button he was fastening, waiting for Grillby to finish, but the filter between his thoughts and his words was always too thick and there were too many anxieties sparking to pin any one down. After a fruitless silence he heaved a rough sigh and batted out a hand, frustrated with his disconnect.

“Muffet. … …Wasted trip?” _What if we put in all of this effort and I turn out to be a disappointment?_

“Heh. If it goes bad, you’ve got a full bar to drown your sorrows.” Finishing the buttons, Sans stretched up to briefly clap Grillby’s slumping shoulders. “Listen, G. Life’s way too short to let things like this slip through your fingers. Family, friend, flame, whatever. You tell yourself you’ll do better, let ’em know that you love ’em tomorrow, and then when you wake up tomorrow they’re gone. And maybe you’ll wake up the day after that with another chance. Or maybe not. You just can’t know. Nothing’s for certain, not ever.”

Grillby tensed, taken aback by the strange heaviness of Sans’ hands and the intensity in his eyelights. He spoke as if he had better knowledge of this than most.

(Who had he lost—and how many times—to say such things? Grillby wasn’t nosy. He didn’t intend to ask, certainly not to Sans’ face, but it was moments like these that made him realize just how little he knew of his friend’s life outside the bar.)

As soon as he noted Grillby’s apprehension, Sans chuckled. Brushing nonexistent lint from the bartender’s lapels, he closed off and slouched back like he always had. “So yeah. Why not shoot your shot? It’s a good thing you’re goin’ for and in an uncertain life, y’need some good things. All’s fire in love and war.”

That pun was obviously meant to relieve some pressure, so Grillby indulged him with a fondly exasperated look.

“… …Thanks.”

“’Course!”

If Muffet could gladly make a trip to Snowdin and Sans was willing to pitch in and clean him up, surely Grillby could find the courage in himself to give it his best effort. He would consider it a victory if Muffet gave him that adorable laugh again, even just once.

“Welp, looks like you’re all set to fire it up,” Sans concluded, tugging on the tie one last time. “You ready?”

“… …Yes.” He couldn’t look half as appealing as his date, but he was passable. Licking the flames of his head back into a neater formation, he stepped back. “… …Thanks,” he repeated, more earnestly.

“Hey, it’s the least I could do! If a second date rolls around, hit me up. I’ll give you the whole ‘Life’s too short’ spiel again, boost your spirits…Oh, and Pap’s got a few more snazzy vests if you want me to drop ’em off at some point. See if they fit.”

Now _that_ sounded like far more effort than Sans would usually resort to, much less offer in the first place. “… …Why help?”

“Aw, do you really need to ask? I’m rootin’ for you, pal! You deserve to be happy. How many favors have you done me over the years? At least five. Think of it as my way of payin’ off a debt!”

 _Other than actually paying it?_ Grillby mused with a crackle of skepticism, tilting his head at what was clearly a well-rehearsed line. Beaming, Sans pocketed his hands in a cheerful shrug.

“Okay, so maybe a few of your valued customers are hoping we’ll get a discount on Muffet’s pastries.” Hopping off the stool, he hauled the backroom door further open with a flourish. “Do us proud, champ. Win her over!”

**Author's Note:**

> Too many fire puns? Yes. Do I care? Nah XD  
> Anyways, Muffet and Grillby (Muffby? Grillfet?) are really cute and deserve more love.


End file.
